Across the street, on the second floor, lives “underwear man”. He likes to phone for hours, in his underwear. Sometimes he scratches his balls while talking into the phone and looking down to the Langstrasse. Sometimes he wears a shirt, but even then, no trousers. He has a visible belly and is quite chubby. I think he had a girlfriend for a while, but she’s gone, now. I often see him sitting in his livingroom at his new laptop. In his underwear. Strange to think that he spends as much time at his laptop as I do. Except that I live on the third floor and can look down on him. I’m not hacking in my underwear.

Every now and then, especially when he’s cleaning the apartment, he’ll open the windows wide open and play loud music as he busies himself. It’s crazy, you can hear it up and down the road. Underwear man is cleaning his apartment! Well, most people don’t know him, but we see him every day. When he’s not there, we worry. When he’s there, we are reassured. Underwear man is there, so the world’s all right.

The strange thing is that he has an excellent taste in Music: Madre Deus, Radiohead, The Cranes, Salsa, he plays all the good stuff.